Children of Sorting 1991
by Chihori Anigma
Summary: In here you will find stories about the lives of the children who were Sorted in 1991. Forty children, each with their own stories to tell. Some of them are sad and some of them are happy. In some you will spend an hour of their lives, in others you will spend it together with them. These are the stories of the children who were Sorted in 1991.
1. Chapter 2

**Black Sheep**

_A/N For 1991 challenge_

_Prompts: Sue Li (Ravenclaw), shine_

I didn't expect to be Sorted into Ravenclaw. I thought I would be Sorted into Hufflepuff or maybe Gryffindor. If I was not Sorted into one of those Houses then Slytherin as a last resort. Never Ravenclaw.

Sure, almost all my siblings had Sorted into Ravenclaw, but I was the dumb one. The one who never knew as much as the others. The one who was always behind in her studies. The one who just achieved at a regular pace, while everyone else in her family over-achieved.

My brothers often joked and called me 'the black sheep'. It was just a joke, but I knew it meant I wasn't as smart as the others, and so couldn't be in Ravenclaw like them.

So when the Sorting Hat said I'd shine in Ravenclaw I couldn't believe my ears.

"W-what?" I thought. I think my mouth might have hung open.

"I said you would shine in Ravenclaw." The Hat informed me grumpily. Then it shouted out that word. "RAVENCLAW!"

The blue and silver table erupted into cheers. I could dimly hear my siblings shouting my name as I stumbled to the table in a haze.

As I sat down my older brother clapped me on the back. "Not the black sheep after all, huh?"

I smiled. I belonged.

_A/N I'm not exactly happy with how this turned out but it's _much _better than the first draft._


	2. Chapter 1

**Stars**

_A/N For 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Oliver Rivers (Hufflepuff), stars_

It was a starry night in 1980. Mrs. Rivers lay on her bed and in between the labor pains she had time to think, 'I've never seen so many stars in my life.'

An hour later her son was born. He was a handsome baby; dark brown eyes twinkled, like the stars out of his pink, wrinkled face.

"What should we name him?" said Mrs. Rivers.

"Oliver," answered her husband.

"Oliver Alastair," she agreed.

The midwife then spoke. She was an old, muggle woman and had hardly spoken all evening. "He was a child born under the stars," she said. "Children born under the stars are special, different. And they never last long. Treasure him while you can."

Mrs. Rivers laughed. What did an old, muggle woman know about seer-sight and divination? Her prediction was just fancy superstition.

* * *

"Mama, mama," Oliver called.

"Yes, Oliver?" Mrs. Rivers called back.

"Look at the stars, Mama. Look at the stars."

Mrs. Rivers came outside and hugged her five year old son. "Yes, they are very pretty," she told him. "Now go get ready for bed.

Oliver nodded and gazed up at the stars for a last look. His eyes twinkled back at them like two more stars.

After he had gone in Mrs. Rivers stayed out for a while, looking up at the stars her son so often talked about. She really couldn't understand his fascination with them. Yes, they were pretty, but so many other things were pretty and Oliver only talked about stars.

* * *

Mrs. Rivers sat at her kitchen table reading the letter she had just gotten from her son. She had sent him off to Hogwarts the day before, yet already missed him.

_Dear Mama and Papa, _the letter ran,

_I got Sorted into Hufflepuff._

_The ceiling in the Great Hall looks like the sky outside. Did you know that? Halfway through dinner the clouds cleared and we saw the stars. So many, Mama and Papa. They were sparkling and twinkling, They were so beautiful, so close._

The letter went on like this, describing the stars. Mrs. Rivers skimmed over the rest of the letter, not wanting to read about stars, but there was nothing else.

She was about to put the letter down when the last line caught her eye.

_And, oh Papa. Oh, Mama. The stars asked me to come to them. Not yet, I said. But I'll go to them someday._

_Love,_

_Oliver_

Mrs. Rivers shivered. She suddenly remembered what that old muggle woman had told her all those years ago, and she felt like it was a bad omen.

'Don't be silly, Estella', she told herself. 'It's just some foolish nonsense.

Even so, she quickly folded the letter up and put it in the back of her drawer, where she would forget it.

* * *

Oliver Rivers lay on the ground outside Hogwarts, quickly losing blood from a cutting spell that had been thrown at him.

The Final Battle raged all around, but Mrs. Rivers could not hear the curses and jinxes being thrown. She could not hear the running footsteps and the crying of the hurt. All she could hear as she knelt above her son was his shallow breathing and her own, trembling voice,

"Oliver. Oliver, my son. Don't die. Please don't die."

"It's fine, Mama. Don't worry." Oliver curled his fingers around her robes. "The stars want me to come to them. I am going. I love you."

That is how Oliver Alastair Rivers died, his fingers curled around his mama's robes and his dark brown eyes staring straight at the bright stars above him, looking for all the world like two stars themselves.

_Estella means 'star'._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Toy**

_A/N For 1991 challenge_

_Prompts: Seamus Finnegan (Gryffindor), mine_

_If I remember correctly Seamus was muggleborn._

"Mine! Mine!" The toddler clutched the toy to his chest protectively, glaring at his mother.

"Ah, alright Seamus. I only wanted to wash it…"

A few days later Seamus sat on his aunt's lap at a family picnic.

"Can I see this?" his aunt asked, reaching out for the toy.

"Mine! Mine!" Seamus gave her one of his cute death-glares.

"Oh. Alright." His aunt laughed and dropped her hand. Seamus toddled off somewhere.

It was getting dark, and the mothers were packing up the picnic things. A few feet away Seamus and his cousin, Gwendolyn were playing.

Gwendolyn tried to take the toy away from Seamus. Seamus slapped her and yelled out, "Mine! Mine!" G

Gwendolyn burst out crying.

"Seamus! Say sorry! You have to share." His uncle reprimanded him, and gently tried to unclench the toy from Seamus' hand.

"Mine! Mine!" Seamus screeched.

"That's enough, Seamus! Time-out now." His mother plopped Seamus in the carriage and kept on an eye on him while continuing to pack up.

"It's funny how possessive he is of that wizard's toy hat," his aunt remarked.

"Yes, it is," agreed his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Madam****Malkin**

_A/N 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Gregory Goyle (Slytherin), clothes_

_Thank You to all my reviewers and followers._

"Thank Merlin! I was afraid he might have been a squib!"

"Shhhh! don't say such things, we're purebloods!"

Two women sat in a dark, messy room. Their names were Mrs. and Grandmother Goyle. Mrs. Goyle held an envelope with a cracked, red seal in her hand.

Inside were two pieces of parchment. One started, 'We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

The other was a list of things to buy for the school. One of them was 'Three sets of plain work robes. (Black)'.

"We'll have to go to Madam Malkin's."

"Why?" interrupted a fat boy who had just entered the room.

"To get you new robes for Hogwarts, Gregory," said his mother.

Gregory frowned, thinking over what his mother had just said. "But I don't want to…"

His mother grabbed his and his grandmothers' arms, and dragged them over to the fire place. "Madam Malkin's," she said clearly, throwing in some powder. The flames turned green and the threesome stepped through them into a dark store.

A thin-lipped woman appeared and looked over Gregory. "For Hogwarts, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Go." The woman pushed Grandmother and Mrs. Goyle out of the store and turned to Gregory. "Stay there."

Gregory did not move an inch, fearing the woman who came back a few minutes later with an armful of black robes.

"Stand still," she ordered. Gregory did indeed stand still, not daring to twitch a hair.

If he had been a differently shaped boy he would have been fitted quickly. However he was short and fat and somewhat pear-shaped.

Madam Malkin did not approve of his body shape, but she liked his conduct. Because of this she only snapped at him four times during the hour he was in her stores,

Gregory, himself, though scared of the fearsome lady, liked her.

That is how the two became friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Expelliarmus**

_A/N 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Justin Finch-Fletchly (Hufflepuff), study_

"Yikes, why are they giving us so much homework?" I complained to my best friend, Ernest Macmillian.

"The OWLS are in three months!" Hermione Granger said, stalking past us, nose in the aur.

"Exactly! They're in _three _months!" I shouted after her.

"Three months is a very short amount of time!" Hermione retorted.

"Actually, it's preety long on studying terms." Ernest told her.

"He's right!" I don't know why I was screaming. I usually never started a fight. Granger was just so annoying.

"You'll see that studying pays off!" she shouted angrily and pulled her wand out, pointing it at me.

"Uh, Justin, run. That girl is the best witch in our year." Ernest whispered to me.

"So?" I said, pulling out my own wand.

"Expelliarus!" Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and landed on the floor next to me. She grabbed it and ran away.

"You just defeated the best witch in our year with with 'expelliarmus'!"

"Well, Harry always said it works," I smiled. Ernest laughed and we walked off to visit the kitchens.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm A Failure**

_A/N: 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Neville Longbottom, complete_

"Maybe he's a squib?" my grandmother said to my older cousin, as I played on the floor.

I was only three and did not know what the word meant.

* * *

My grandmother gave me a disappointed look as I asked for a toy placed on top of a bookshelf.

"Get it yourself," she said. "You know you can."

I actually knew I couldn't, but at five I knew my grandmother well enough to know she wanted me to use accidental magic to get the toy.

I stretched out my arm and begged for the toy to come to me. Nothing happened; after a while my grandmother left the room.

I immediately grabbed a small, plastic chair and put it on top of the coffee table. I climbed on top and tried to jump on the bookcase.

CRASH! My feet lay under a bunch of books, the bookcase itself falling just shy of them. I picked myself up, unhurt and looked for the toy.

"Oh, Neville." My grandmother came rushing into the room after hearing the crash. Her tone was disapproving so I didn't reply.

* * *

I wanted to scream, but I kept quiet. My uncle was dangling me upside-down out of an upstairs window. Then he dropped me.

My body curled up into a ball as I fell through the air, down, down, down…

Any moment I was going to die, I thought. Any moment my head was going to crash into the rocks below and I would be goo.

I landed on the rocks and bounced! I bounced again and again until I came to the garden gate. I started crying and sobbing.

My whole family rushed out of the house. "Neville! Stop crying at once! You just did accidental magic! You are not a squib!"

My older cousin picked me u and carried me back into the house.

That night I was happy. My family pampered me, giving me all the sweets and cakes I wanted. They told me again and again how great it was that I was not a squib after all.

* * *

I was nine years old and passing the living room when I heard my grandmother say my name.

"He hasn't done any accidental magic since he fell out of the window when he was eight." My grandmother's voice.

"Maybe he's a squib after all." My uncle.

"No! No! He can't be a squib! That would be a disgrace to the family name!"

I ran to the kitchen and began stuffing my face with whatever I saw, tears streaming down my face.

* * *

I heard Harry, Hermione and Ron planning to go through the trap-door that night. That was too dangerous for 11-year olds. I couldn't let them do it. They were my friends.

That night I hid in the Common Room waiting for Harry, Ron and Hermione. When they came I stood in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"You can't do this! It's too dangerous!"

"Neville…we have to do this. Let us through." Harry didn't know what he was talking about. He should tell an adult. He shouldn't be doing it himself!

"Neville…" Harry started again.

Hermione turned her wand on me. "Perfecius Totallus!"

My body banged onto the floor. I tried to move, but couldn't and one thought filled my head, 'I'm a failure. Failure. Failure. Failure."

I thought about all the times that year a spell had gone wrong or my potion had exploded. There were a lot of them. Maybe I was a squib.

And now I hadn't been able to do what even a muggle was capable of doing. I hadn't been able to save my friends.

* * *

McGonagall called me up to her desk after Transfiguration in the beginning of 3rd year. I thought that she was going to tell me that there had been a mistake. That I hadn't passed the exams. That I was going to be sent back to Second year.

I walked up to her with trembling legs. After everyone had gone, she began.

"Neville, you will be able to do better in class if you believe in yourself. Every year you show in the exams how smart you really are.

"If you need extra help, I, or any of the other professors would be glad to give you private lessons."

_Liar! _Part of my brain was shouting at her. _Liar! I believe in myself! I'm just not good at magic!_

The other part of my brain was talking to me. _See, _it mocked. _See how dumb you are. McGonagall wants you to take extra lessons._

* * *

I woke up in the Hospital Room and everything flooded into my mind. I remembered the battle in the Ministry. I remembered the Death Eaters. I remembered the spells I had done correctly and all the Death Eaters I hexed.

I felt proud of myself. I had helped the Light Side. I had helped to win the battle.

Maybe I wasn't such a failure.


End file.
